Simple Truths
by Lady of the Phoenix
Summary: Dave has red feelings for Karkat, but he knows it will never work out. Or so he's trying to convince himself. And the nightmares only make the idea of feelings that much harder to bear.


Notes: To fulfill a Tumblr anon request for DaveKat sadstuck. I've never written DaveKat, or in Dave PoV so I'm sure there is some stuff I could have done to make it better. But I'm now intrigued by the potentials of the pairing.

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Simple Truths

It would never work out.

Plain and simple truth. Right up there with all the other plain and simple truths. Like Earth's gone. Like he isn't going to see his best friend for another two years. Like their meteor is being chased by a psychotic, bad dog that was kind of his fault because he'd pissed off that crazy clown with music. Like Terezi's blind and obsessed with the color red. Like Bro's dead.

Except none of those things are simple. None of them were guaranteed to be true when everything was over. If all of what Rose was saying was meant to come true, then none of it mattered. Earth still existed somewhere beyond the scratch. His best friend was still feasibly reachable through these damn dream bubbles, even though they hadn't stumbled across each other yet. Jack would be faced by the united forces of not one, but four god tiers when they hit the scratched session. Bro would still be alive there, alive and younger and all of that, probably still as badass as ever. Terezi... would still be Terezi, but from what Dave was hearing about reaching god tier, she could have had her vision back.

But she hadn't. None of the trolls on this rock had. Another plain and simple truth.

One that went hand in hand with the fact that this would never work out.

They were mortal. He was immortal so long as he didn't go off and do something stupidly heroic like deciding to blow up the sun again. Or dive to take a killing blow to save someone else's life. Which was honestly about as cheesy as things got, and kind of pointless if it was Rose in the picture. She'd just rise up again, alive and unharmed. The trolls wouldn't. They were only mortal. Doomed to die.

Karkat was doomed to die.

And Dave kept telling himself that he didn't care.

Would have been a hundred times easier to convince himself if it wasn't for the fact that every time he was arguing with the idiot Rose looked over at them, something like sympathy in her eyes. As if she knew what it felt like. Her troll was the equivalent of Edward Cullen, right down to the sparkling, but without so much angst. Who was to say if Kanaya would ever die now that she was Sparkly-Fangs. The clown troll, TZ, Karkat, they would all die someday, though, and if what he was hearing about stupid troll culture and biology was right—and since he was getting it at unbearable length from Rose in her Seer moods he had to believe it was—Karkat would be the first to go. Well before the others. Assuming any of them survived through the coming days.

The worst part?

The absolute fucking worst part of it all?

Karkat had decided to get it into his pan that he was 'black' for Dave or something. Whatever that meant. Something to do with hate. Fucking trolls and their fucking convoluted relationship methods. Who even needed a fucking grid to explain their relationships? Swear to troll Jegus or whoever that if he had to see Karkat working out another box to sort out his assumptions regarding Dave and Terezi's relationship, Dave was going to punch him in the face. And then mumble something about it being platonic or whatever.

What more could he do? Karkat was caught up in his obsession with Terezi, and it wasn't like Dave was going to step into the middle of that. It wasn't his place, was it? He was supposed to be Terezi's... what was the word she used? Moy-rul or something? Some fancy troll word and concept for best friend—he'd have to think about a way to make it up to John when they met up again, because Terezi was just all kinds of broken and needing some coolkid to keep her together—which meant he was supposed to look out for her. Help her from going murder crazy or something, help her get through the fact that her whole world was gone, all her friends were gone, and she had murdered someone. Didn't seem to matter to her that it was in self defense. She still felt guilty, and she needed him, and it was his job to look out for her best interests. Which was her and Karkat, right?

Right?

No. Fuck no. He was not even getting into this territory. Being nervous about relationships was something girls did. Striders weren't like this. They just went up to whoever they wanted, told them their intents, and let the other person deal with it. Take those bitches on the ride of their lifetime as they were wooed by the way a Strider operated. Watched those bitches swoon as they worked their charm. Sitting back and wondering and mooning over someone just wasn't what a Strider did, wasn't that what Bro had told him when he got his first crush?

Then again, Bro probably hadn't really expected him to fall for a foul mouthed, anger fueled, gray skinned, candy-corn horned alien Knight. Dave was supposed to be the one to continue the Strider name. Raise a little boy or girl Strider and tech them all the ways of the ancient and secret ways of the Strider. Make them the coolest coolkid that had ever walked the world, except for himself. But hey, no one was perfect. Bro was the one that was going to abscond someday, a knight carrying off his prince. Dave was supposed to grab up a princess, rescue her from the boring mediocre life she had been bound to before she'd met him. He wasn't supposed to find himself another knight who only needed saved from his own dumbass self.

It would not, could not work out. Plain and simple.

Complex and fucking hard to wrap his head around.

And every night he managed to dream without one of those fucking bubbles taking hold and showing him countless dead Daves—dead Daves were still the enemy, even in godhood—he dreamt of something far worse. Of being able to do nothing but stand back and watch as Karkat faced down Jack. The idiot just standing there, his pathetic fucking sickles in his hands, determination on his face. Determination to protect Terezi, that much is more than abundantly clear. Because the idiot's placed himself between Terezi and harm, acting like it would do anything.

And no matter how hard Dave calls them, the time tables don't appear. No matter how hard he wills it, time does not bend to his will. Everything keeps moving in a kind of slow motion that isn't under his control. Jack pulls out his sword—it was Dave's fault he had that weapon so close to hand, fucking seppucrow—and Karkat still looks like he's going to do the monumentally stupid thing and defend Terezi. Worst of all, Dave finds himself just standing there. If he throws himself forward, steps between the idiot and his certain death, then he'll die. Hero for sure. No getting up from that. The only way to honor the memory of Karkat's willingness to sacrifice himself so someone else has a chance to destroy the fucking dog from hell is to let him go through with it.

No way to save him without dying. No way to die without him following immediately. No saving him. Only survival and vengeance. And it hurts. Either choosing to let him die now, or to save him to let him die in a minutes' time.

A minute isn't very long. It's something so small that Dave can feel it ticking away in his brain at any given moment, and yet it's all Karkat's got. Because he's not good enough to call time to a stop. Not good enough to force it to sit down and fucking heel like a well trained puppy that knows it will get its treat once it just gets over its urge to frolic and listens to you. What good is being the god of time if it won't bark when told?

Then he's there, the decision made. Maybe time won't obey, but the flashstep and years of strifing is always waiting for Dave to fall back on. The sword's going up, a replica of one of his old shitty swords and yet sharp as Rose's tongue, as deadly as any other Dave's known. And still he's there, standing between it and Karkat like it even fucking matters. Standing there and raising his sword to block. But the flashstep took time, took energy, and it's just enough to let Jack get the edge. Karkat falling back a step, gasping in shock at what he's seeing, and a blade cutting far too easily into the top of Dave's shoulder.

A gasp of pain. Whose is anyone's guess. But it's there, in the air, can't be called back for all the money in the world like a picture of the night a male senator got totally wasted and went out and had pictures of him taken while partying with Bubba and Hank at a gay bar with his pants around his ankles.

Another gasp, and this time Dave knows its his, because Jack's pulled the sword free, and redirected it to plunge into his lung. It's less about the pain, and more about the fact that he can't breathe. No matter what happens now, he's dead. No questions asked. He'll drown or bleed out. Which happens first is all a matter of time, and that's rapidly winding down as he breathes. Can hear each second ticking by, slower and more faintly than the last. Hears Karkat behind him, his familiar, angry voice cutting through the ticking but making no sense because everything is moving so slow.

Then, just as Jack pulls the sword free, lets him fall slowly backwards and his eyes are starting to close and there's a blur of shadow moving past him screaming something or other, he wakes up. Every single fucking time.

He doesn't share the dream with Rose. Not once. Doesn't want to hear what she'll make of it.

He doesn't tell it to Terezi, even though she mentions a few times she knows he's holding something back, and it's not what moyruls are supposed to do. Doesn't want her to think he's being a bad one because he's getting all dream sappy saving the life of the Troll she's got the hots for.

He definitely doesn't tell Karkat. Every time he sees the shouting bastard the idiot acts like they are born enemies, dueling for Terezi's affections. Never gives Dave a chance to tell him otherwise. Never gives him a chance to explain, not that he would. Got TZ's feelings to consider.

Besides, there's no point in telling.

Striders are too good at not letting themselves get pinned down. Pinned means pain. Means suffering because you deserved it for fucking up.

There was enough pain to go around without Dave inviting more for everyone around him.

So he says nothing. Stays silent and goes about his life. Spends days with TZ playing with the Mayor and his cans. Spends night staring off into the void behind them, fearful that Jack will catch up and everything he was dreaming wasn't just a nightmare, but some hint of the future given to a Knight of Time. Avoids Karkat every moment he can, not wanting to see another box or hear another rant about how they could share Terezi and make it work.

It's not Terezi he wants to share. It's not Terezi he wants to share with.

It would never work out.

And maybe, Dave tells himself in those moments he steals for himself and only himself, if he tells himself that enough times, he'll start to believe it. Start to believe that even trying would be too pointless to consider.

It would never work out.

Because he'd never let himself try.


End file.
